


Rumours

by Hekate1308



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:05:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: DS Sally Ford has been hearing stories about DI Richard Poole ever since she arrived at Croydon. From what she can tell, he must be quite the character, but aside from that, he seems to be an excellent detective – not that that’s what most people who still complain about him even though he left years ago focus on. Future Fic, Camille/Richard





	Rumours

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I am firmly in the "season 3 onwards doesn't exist" camp for this series. Enjoy!

DS Sally Ford has been hearing stories about DI Richard Poole ever since she arrived at Croydon. From what she can tell, he must be quite the character, but aside from that, he seems to be an excellent detective – not that that’s what most people who still complain about him even though he left years ago focus on.

_“You should have seen him with his suits, being all grumpy and annoying –“_

_“If he had his way, he would process every piece of evidence himself!”_

_“Could never get it through his thick skull that he just had to be one of the boys if he didn’t want to be teased.”_

DCI Compton is by far the worst of the bunch. From what she has slowly gathered over the last three years, it’s a small wonder, since he was close friends with the man who got arrested in Saint Marie shortly before she started working here – Doug Anderson; personally, she thinks that he must have been a bad apple from the beginning, and considering he didn’t like DI Poole, that’s actually a reason to think well of him.

If you ask her.

But DCI Compton never does, and instead thinks it’s funny to her to hear stories about the “guy with no girlfriend or friends”, the “OCD detective” or the “outsider”.

She’s born it all – what else could she do? – and done her best to learn about DI Poole from other, less biased sources. Certainly, she thought when she first grew curious, there had to be some who held him in better remembrance than Compton.

And she did indeed find them. Not amongst the DCIs and DIs who still think he’s a bloody know-it-all who never had a business to set his foot into their station in the first place, but amongst the others. DCs he encouraged. The old night porter, who still now and then gets a postcard from “Richard” and plans to visit him with his wife eventually. Even a few petty criminals seem to have liked him enough.

Sally still remembers the laughter of the older officers when it was announced, about a year after she’d arrived, that DI Poole had decided to get assigned to Saint Marie permanently. Many joked about how he was probably still traipsing around the island in his dark suits, constantly annoyed by the heat, and Sally spent a few memorable days trying to understand what was so funny about a clever colleague suffering in the sun before she gave up.

Now, though, she will have the chance to meet him herself. An old case of his has resurfaced – turns out the murderer killed two others before the three young men for whose murders Poole eventually arrested him – and he’s been asked to return for London for a few weeks as a consultant.

Some – like Richards and the PCs he helped – are genuinely glad to hear they’ll see him again. Others, like Compton, laugh.

Sally’s been asked to pick him up, and as she leaves, Compton calls after her, “Just look for the stuffy guy in the suit. You won’t miss him.”

She really doesn’t think much of DCI Compton.

The plane appears to have been on time, and she’s standing in the waiting area, holding up a sign that says _DI Poole_ , watching the passengers slowly make their way through the door.

One of them is already talking on his phone. Normally, she doesn’t care for those who can hardly bear to turn theirs off for even half a day, but when he comes close enough to hear what he’s saying, she doesn’t bother suppressing her smile.

“And you’re both alright? You’re sure? I wish I was – Yes, I know, it’s just the risks, according to certain studies I found – I know I promised, but it was a long flight! What if – No, I don’t think you can’t take care of yourself, of course not – it’s just – yes I will – I love you, too.”

While Sally doesn’t have children, several of her friends and her cousins do, and she immediately recognizes the tone; add to this the shiny ring on his finger and it becomes rather clear what he’s talking about – this is a man who’s about to become a father for the first time and who sadly had to leave his wife behind at such an interesting time and is now worrying about her, most likely needlessly so.

He hangs up and she lets her eyes wander over the crowd, wondering when DI Poole will show up when the same voice who was just talking about scientific studies about pregnancy says politely, “Hello, I’m DI Richard Poole.”

She blinks. This is supposed to be the stuffy, unlikeable man the other still complain about? Yes, he’s wearing a suit, but a light, cream-coloured one – one she would imagine to be quite comfortable in the hot climate of a tropical island – and he’s even slipped out of his jacket, plus there’s no tie to be seen. And of course there’s the ring, and the talk with his wife...

She clears her throat and extends her hand. “DS Ford.”

He shakes it.

“Do you have –“

“No baggage. I wasn’t going to risk it getting lost.” He smiles wryly, as if it’s a private joke. “Plus I won’t be here for long... hand luggage is all I need.”

She nods. “Do you want me to drive me to your hotel, sir?”

But he’s already shaking his head. “No time like the present, plus I’ll be jetlagged no matter what I do. My parents are expecting me in the evening.”

Of course, he still has family in town. No need for a hotel room, then.

He won’t allow her to take his hand luggage and steps back to let her pass through the doors first. When a light drizzle hits them, he noticeably shivers and slips back into his suit jacket, which however Sally doesn’t think will bring him much warmth.

“I didn’t quite miss the weather as much as I thought, it seems” he mumbles, then shakes his head. “Thank God Camille doesn’t know that. I would never hear the end of it.”

“Is Camille your wife, sir?” the question slips out before she can stop herself; in the next moment, she wishes she could take it back. From everything she’s heard, he’s an intensely private person, and there’s every reason to think they will have to work closely together in the next few days, at least; she has already been told that “no one wants to work with him” (another Compton lie, of course) and now she has put her foot in –

But instead of scolding her or not answering, he turns to her with a big smile on his face and once more, she finds herself feeling taken aback. She didn’t think him ugly before, but with the expression of heartfelt delight on his face, he’s positively handsome and with irritation she registers a spark of attraction running through her. “Yes. We’ve been married for a year now.”

“Congratulations.” She figures it’s the safest thing to say.

Not that it matters – he’s still beaming, and like all men Sally ever met who completely and utterly adore their wives, he immediately launches into a soliloquy. “She’s my Sergeant, you know” he confides in her as the stroll to the car, “And for the longest time I didn’t think – but here we are. We are actually expecting our first child.” Everything he says is filled with a sense of wonder, as if he still can’t quite believe this is his life, and Sally admits to herself that she has to be careful. She can’t allow herself to grow too attracted to a happily married man who will soon fly back to the other side of the earth.

Thankfully, soon enough this is not a problem anymore. Once they enter the car, he draws out his wallet and shows her the pictures he keeps in there – it seems he’s already proving the saying _fathers carry photos were their money used to be_ true – and she’s presented with his and his wife’s wedding picture, their twelve-week-scan and – dear god, another three pictures of his wife, in various constellations with who turn out to be the other members of their team.

He’s just so happy that it’s hard not to smile as well as he explains who’s who.

“If I may ask” she says, studying the ultrasound picture (and doing her best to pretend she can actually see anything; she has always thought they look remarkably like Rorschach tests) “Do you know what you’re having yet, sir?”

“A boy” he answers. “Camille has already promised me that we’ll be careful so he doesn’t turn out too much like me.” A self-deprecating smile follows, then he adds, “She proceeded to punch my arm and call me her English worry wart.”

She assumes it was a show of affection more than anything else since he doesn’t seem insulted.

“But I think we should really be getting on our way now... God knows Compton doesn’t like to be kept waiting” he adds in a tone that tells her he’s forgotten about Compton as little as Compton about him.

Sally already knows which of the two she likes better, and she has only known DI Poole for fifteen minutes.

* * *

Thankfully, not many officers are around when she shows him the desk they cleared for him; she can’t help but think it adorable that the first thing he takes out of his briefcase is his framed wedding picture to put it there.

They work together for the afternoon – DI Poole catching up on the case – and regularly get interrupted by the very people who have always defended him to Sally. They seem genuinely glad to see him (which in turn appears to confuse him, and yet she can tell he enjoys the attention).

* * *

Compton, of course, is a much less welcome visitor. “Dick! Didn’t think we’d see you here again. Was pretty sure you’d stay in Paradise.”

She can immediately tell from the way DI Poole’s shoulders stiffen that he doesn’t like being called Dick.

“Robert” he greets him evenly. “As you know I am only here to consult.”

“Yes, probably better after what you did to Doug anyway.”

“It’s less what I did to him and more what he did to a young woman and his wife” Poole says simply, and his calmness seems to confuse Compton, who soon takes his leave.

“I assume everyone knows that story?” he asks resignedly.   
She nods. They continue to work. 

* * *

That evening, the group that has made sure DI Poole feels welcome plus Sally invite him to the White Heart for a pint. Soon, Compton seems to be forgotten as he regales them with stories from Saint Marie.

She’s ready to bet not everyone knows someone who met his wife because he arrested her and put her in a cell with a _goat_.

Yes, between the hard-working man she has come to know this afternoon and the bullies who have been complaining about him to her for so long, there is no question who she prefers.

* * *

By unspoken consensus, everyone who knows about DI Poole’s private life – in other words, only those who care enough to listen to him and are actually happy for him – keeps quiet about it. It’s not really a conscious decision of theirs, and yet it leads to one of the most satisfying moments Sally’s ever had at Croydon.

As it turns out, they need more information out of one of his notebooks which stayed behind on Saint Marie, and so they decide to facetime “your Sergeant” as Compton sneers during a conference.

DI Poole, as professional as Sally has come to know him, introduces the beautiful and visibly pregnant woman who fills the screen as “Sergeant Camille Bordey” and she is quick to correct him.

“Sergeant Bordey-Poole, actually.” She looks at her husband and her eyes soften. “Bonjour, mon coeur.”

DI Poole actually blushes before quietly saying back, “Hello, my love.” Then he clears his throat and continues as if nothing has happened-

Compton is doing an impressive impression of a goldfish, and he’s not the only one.

Sally catches DI Poole’s eyes and smiles as innocently as she can.

It’s a good day. 


End file.
